


Let It Ride

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur's hair, Bathing/Washing, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames poured a pool of hotel shampoo into his palm and lathered it up, and ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, scrubbing his scalp, massaging the foam through his hair, firmly massaging his neck. Arthur groaned again, head tipping back and then slowly falling forward. “Keep those noises up, I’ll take you to bed and you’ll get all sweaty again,” Eames admonished, smiling. Arthur snorted. “Fine with me.” “I thought you were tired. I’m tired.” “I’ll ride you. You’ll just have to lie there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) Round 5 for the square _washing/cleaning_. Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno).

“Arthur?”

Eames closed the door to the suite and set down his bag. He caught the scent of soap in the air. “In here,” he heard Arthur call.

He shed his jacket and followed the sound of Arthur’s voice to the bath. It was steamy in here; Arthur was in the tub, the water thick with foam.

Eames leaned on the doorframe, and chuckled, taking him in. “Really, Arthur, a bubble bath? Couldn’t you have waited until I got in?”

“You didn’t have to run around all day like I did,” Arthur groused, a wet flannel over his eyes, his arm up on the side of the tub. He was leaning back, a folded towel at his shoulders to cushion him.

“Darling, I know, your life is so terribly difficult.” Eames knelt at the side of the tub (not without difficulty) to lean in and give Arthur a quick kiss.

“Don’t fall in,” Arthur said, pulling off the flannel and smiling up at him. Eames’ heart leapt, not that he was eager to acknowledge it. He hadn’t seen that smile in months; hadn’t seen Arthur in months, until this job.

His tone, however, was light. “I won’t, don’t worry. So you just got in?”

“Yeah, just started soaking.”

“Are you sore?”

“A bit, yeah. My back.”

“Lean forward and let me get it, love.”

“You wash my back, I’ll wash yours?” Arthur, amused, sat forward with a little groan, drawing his knees up. Eames took up the flannel.

“Something like that.” He dipped the flannel in the water and wrung it out over Arthur’s back before bunching it up and rubbing it in slow, massaging circles over his skin. Arthur rested on his knees, gradually relaxing under Eames’ ministrations. Still, he was rather tense, seemingly in a bit of pain.

Arthur did work hard. He was relentless. He didn’t always take the time to relax; he couldn’t always afford to. He exhausted himself. Eames thought how good it was to have a moment to just care for him. He had so few chances at it.

“This can’t be a good angle for you, “Arthur said after a while, voice muffled.

“I don’t mind.” Eames set the flannel aside, got the tiny bar of hotel soap and rubbed it over Arthur’s smooth, slick back, lathering him up. Arthur groaned softly when Eames rubbed the soap firmly into his shoulders. “Dip, rinse, get your hair wet and I’ll wash it. D’you know what, why don’t you turn to put your back to me, sit cross-legged.”

Arthur dipped under and then sat up, dripping. Eames poured a pool of hotel shampoo into his palm and lathered it up, and ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, scrubbing his scalp, massaging the foam through his hair, firmly massaging his neck. Arthur groaned again, head tipping back and then slowly falling forward.

“Keep those noises up, I’ll take you to bed and you’ll get all sweaty again,” Eames admonished, smiling.

Arthur snorted. “Fine with me.”

“I thought you were tired. I’m tired.”

“I’ll ride you. You’ll just have to lie there.”

Eames pretended to consider. “All right, Arthur, if you insist. Now rinse.” He got to his feet.

Arthur dipped under to rinse himself free of suds and swiped his hands over his face once he’d surfaced, blinking water from his lashes. Eames watched as he pulled the plug and stood, turning on the taps and the showerhead to rinse properly with cool water while the tub drained.

Eames took the opportunity to admire Arthur naked under the spray, the corded muscle of his lean body, the smooth olive skin marked with a scar here and there. And of course that truly splendid arse. Eames had known all of him. Arthur saw him looking and smiled, open and teasing, and there went Eames’ heart again.

He picked up a towel and held it out as Arthur turned off the water and stepped out. Pressing a kiss to Eames’ lips as he took the towel, he put his other hand on Eames’ side, fingers wetting his shirt.

Arthur gave himself a perfunctory drying-off, and swiped the towel over his dripping-wet curling hair, squeezing it dry. Eames did so love seeing Arthur with nothing in his hair. He cupped Arthur’s nape, sliding his hand up into the little curls trimmed into a neat line, thumb stroking his ear. “D’you know, Arthur, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I like your hair this way.”

“You actually do tell me when you’re really drunk,” Arthur said with a smile. “I guess you never remember.”

“Mm, I suppose not.” Eames wondered what else he told Arthur when he was drunk. Perhaps he ought not to get drunk around him again.

Eames suggested he take a shower as well, but Arthur refused. “I want you now and I want you sweaty,” he said, and Eames was affected enough by that to simply follow Arthur to the bed, where he was summarily stripped until he was as naked as Arthur, who dotted his skin with biting little kisses, and then pushed him back onto the bed.

Arthur grabbed the lube, straddled Eames, and started to prep himself, up on his knees, his eyes falling closed. Eames, enjoying the view, ran his hands over Arthur’s clean, damp skin: up his lightly-haired thighs, his narrow hips, the muscles over his ribs, to run his fingers over Arthur’s small, dark nipples. Arthur inhaled at the contact, lashes fluttering, and bit his lip as he shifted, evidently working his fingers further into himself, a small sound catching in his throat. His cock was dark and hard against his belly.

Eames wet his lips. “Arthur, please.”

Arthur opened his eyes and grinned at him, skin pink now and not strictly from the bath. “Thought you were tired.” He shook damp dark locks back from his forehead, raking his free hand through his hair.

Eames pinched his nipple. “Do have mercy, kitten. Besides, might I remind you, this was your idea.”

Arthur sighed, still grinning, and moved about, straddling Eames properly and sinking slowly down onto his cock, a satisfied hum low in his throat. He wriggled a bit, getting settled, and Eames held his breath.

Slowly rolling his hips, Arthur smoothed his palms up Eames’ stomach. “I fucking missed this,” he breathed.

“You can have it whenever you like,” Eames said, voice slightly strained.

“Can I.” Arthur started to slowly fuck himself on Eames’ cock, savoring the feel of it, his cock leaving a damp trail on his belly.

“You can, of course you can.” Eames would probably have promised Arthur anything at that moment.

Arthur smiled, self-satisfied, and arched his back, tilting his head while he still looked down at Eames, his upper body a long, graceful line. He folded his arms behind his back; Eames could see he was grasping his forearms, long fingers cupping his elbows.

Eames took the hint. “Shall I help you out, then?” He found the lube and slicked a palm, wrapping it around Arthur’s cock, calling a groan from him. Arthur fucked down onto him and up into his grip, doing as he liked, Eames the instrument of his pleasure, expertly played.

Arthur held his lip in his teeth and then released it with a sigh, mouth falling open just slightly, his eyes squeezing shut as Eames slicked his thumb over the tip of his cock. Eames watched Arthur’s nostrils flare, his narrow chest heave. He thrust up into him as best as he was able, matching Arthur’s rhythm.

“Yeah, come on,” Arthur said, tongue passing quickly over his lips. “Fuck me, Eames, I need it.”

“Thought you said I’d only have to lie here.”

“I may have exaggerated.” Arthur gasped and Eames forgot what they were talking about.

Eames’ free hand moved to Arthur’s hip, his fingers digging into the curve of his ass he pressed his own hips upward.

Arthur gasped again at that, more breathless now. “Fuck, Eames. God, I missed this.” _This_ , again not _you_ , Eames couldn’t keep himself from noticing.

Eames paused the movement of his hand to spread precome over the head of Arthur’s cock, amused at the way Arthur gritted his teeth, impatient, rocking back down onto Eames as he said, “Did you even miss me, you asshole?” and huffed out a laugh.

“Don’t I always?” Eames gave him a squeeze, and Arthur shuddered, panting as Eames started stroking him again, faster now, grip firmer; hoping that Arthur was distracted and wouldn’t continue this line of questioning, wouldn’t make him come out and say it.

As Arthur got close, he couldn’t keep his hands behind his back; he pressed them to his face, and finally raked his fingers through his hair, panting, skin flushed as he alternately cursed Eames and begged for more. Eames could do nothing but give Arthur everything he asked for.

Pulling at his hair and tilting his face toward the ceiling, Arthur came hard, shuddering and groaning, come spattering Eames’ stomach and chest. Eames closed his eyes, panting, every bit of his peak wrung from him, losing track of time as he caught his breath.

He grunted softly as Arthur pulled off, and opened his eyes to see Arthur standing next to the bed, a hand out and a smile on his flushed face.

“Let’s get you that shower now, Mr. Eames.”

Eames stood on slightly shaky legs and let Arthur lead him to the bath once more. Arthur turned on the water, got him under the spray, lathered up his hands, and washed him, thorough, proprietary, massaging his tired muscles and sneaking in kisses.

Eames felt something inside him quiver helplessly at the sheer care Arthur took, the way he responded in kind to Eames’ earlier ministrations for him. He didn’t say a word, however. Arthur may have guessed something at the stunned expression Eames was sure he had, at least in his eyes, but he said nothing, just smiled at him, those lovely sloe eyes dancing.

Arthur dried them both off, and led Eames, who by now was more than ready for sleep, back to bed. He searched through Eames’ luggage and found a pair of boxers; tossing them to Eames, he put on his own, put the lube away, pulled back the covers, and gestured for Eames to get in.

“We’ll nap until it’s time to eat,” he said, getting in behind Eames and pressing against his back as he liked to do, one ankle hooked over Eames’ in an unneeded but appreciated hint of possession. Eames fell asleep with the scent of hotel soap in his nose and a kiss from Arthur on his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/), [Amy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunder) and Liz for all your help!


End file.
